


What She Will Do

by CaptainTarthister



Series: From Across the Room [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Morning Wood, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime feels right at home in Brienne's apartment, much to her displeasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Back home in Tarth, Brienne and her dad Selwyn entertained occasional visitor. There was Uncle Galladon, who would visit them in between tours of duty before a landmine got him, and Goodwin, Selwyn’s best friend. She didn’t know if that was his first or last name but some five years before her dad died, his visits got rarer until word of his death reached them. 

Other than these visits, quiet ruled their home. Father and daughter were not talkers and found more comfort in silence and in their own thoughts. Brienne didn’t have friends growing up. Gawky and awkward, children bullied her such that she could count the number of times she ate in the lunchroom instead of the bathroom, and also the number of times people talked to her not because they had to but they wanted to—or so she’d like to think. Because of her looks and behaviour, she was a prime target for all manner of meanness and the day she left Tarth for college was the happiest of her life. She hated leaving Selwyn but she knew that it was because of her presence at home why his love life was way under the radar. The only indication of it were the hushed voices she overheard while at the top of the stairs or the soft roar of a strange car exiting their driveway come morning. She knew her father was human and needed sex but she was grateful that he didn’t dangle his women before her.

In her apartment now, the only time it saw visitors was when Sansa crashed on the couch when she was too tired or too drunk to go home or Winterfest Holiday, when she invited staff from the bakery to dinner and they sat around the piano singing the whole night. Those were easy, come to think of it. She and Sansa were best friends so she only had to toss her a fluffy pillow and a blanket, and her relationship with the staff was good so conversation wasn’t difficult.

Her visitor—the uninvited Jaime Lannister—was a whole different animal.

First, he stood at the door looking at her apartment in that assessing way that had become one of the annoying things she had come to know. “It’s not as fancy as your manor, Lannister, but it’s home for me,” she growled, wondering what on earth had possessed her to invite him up for coffee. She felt she had to defend her home. At three hundred square feet, it was an appropriate size for someone living alone—if you were a mere mortal. This was probably closet space for Lannister, at best.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Jaime protested, following her inside. He closed the door behind him.

“You’re having coffee. One cup of coffee and then you’re leaving,” Brienne told him as she went to the kitchen. She got the airtight container for her coffee and shook enough into the coffeemaker for one. 

“Geez, you do know how to make your guest feel welcome, wench,” Jaime told her. 

“My name is Brienne and you’re not my guest.” She said, measuring the water before pouring it in. As the coffeemaker coughed and sputtered, she turned around and saw Jaime lounging on her couch. 

_Lounging on her couch, helping himself to her Meereenese lamb and with his feet up on her antique coffee table!_

“What the hell are you doing?” Brienne demanded, shocked and outraged.

“Fuck, this is _good,”_ Jaime groaned out loud, licking the grease off his fingers. His hungry moans made her tummy flutter. 

Brienne marched to him and snatched the box from his hands. “Hey!” Jaime yelped. His green eyes flashed at her. “What did you do that for?”

“That’s _my_ dinner. Or was,” Brienne frowned at the empty box. With her knee, she jerked his socked feet off her table. “What gives you the right to eat my food and put your smelly feet on my coffee table?”

“My feet hurt. I’ve been standing for close to three hours smiling and talking. I didn’t get to eat at all,” Jaime said, still slouched deep in her couch. He had unknotted his bow tie and popped open his immaculate shirt two buttons down, revealing a patch of golden skin dusted with blond curls. Brienne glanced at the chair by the couch and saw that his jacket lay there in a careless tumble. She folded it neatly. She noticed one of his shoes was by the couch and the other under the coffee table. Nope. That he was picking up himself, she thought. 

“So? Why didn’t you get your own takeout instead of wolfing down mine? You’d be home in your own couch,” Brienne pointed out, standing over him with her hands on her waist.

To her further irritation, Jaime looked at her from the top of her head down to her slippers. Why was he looking at her as if he wanted to eat her up? Brienne had very little experience with men (okay, practically zero) but she knew that kind of look. She’d seen it often enough in movies, read it described in lurid detail in the romance novels she hid under her bed. But not once had she been looked at the way Jaime was doing to her right now. She fought the warm blush beginning to overwhelm her face again to no avail. 

“True. But like I said, I wanted to see you.”

“And you don’t know why. Jaime, please, not to be any more rude, but you are leaving after coffee, right?” She was pleading.

He stacked his hands behind his head.“But we’re having so much fun talking.”

“This is not talking. This is you and me forcing ourselves to play nice when in fact we want to kill each other. It took me three months’ pay for that couch and I don’t want it bloodied.”

“Yeah, but you’re eating greasy food on it.”

“Because it’s my couch, you moron. I can do whatever I want with it. And I ate with a napkin on my lap.”

Jaime howled with laughter. “Who the hell eats like that on the couch?”

Her ears were beet-red. “I do. Please? Promise me you’ll leave after coffee?”

“Talk to me while the coffee is still being made,” Jaime patted the space next to him as if he owned the couch. “Come on. I won’t bite unless you want me to. Do you?”

Brienne sank down on the chair and cocked an eyebrow at him “I’m going to sit over here, if that’s alright.”

“No it isn’t. Beside me, Brienne. _Now._ ”

She didn’t know if it was his commanding tone or her name flitting from his lips that did it. Much to her embarrassment, she did as he said. She sat stiffly, her back ramrod straight. Jaime sighed loudly and grabbed her on the shoulder, yanking her so she toppled clumsily against the couch. He laughed as she snarled at him.

“You’re a fucking son of a bitch, Lannister, you know that?”

“Too well. Come on, wench, it’s not so bad to be close. And shame on you for saying my feet stink. I can tell you honestly that no part of me smells bad. Ever.” Jaime angled his neck. “Care for a whiff?”

That is one damn sexy strong neck, Brienne thought, feeling her heart thudding hard and heavy in her ears. She glared at him instead. “No, thank you.”

“Always so polite. Well, later, I will convince you.” Jaime said, straightening up. He sniffed the air. “Nice coffee. Smells great. Of course, there’s also you. Has anyone told you that you smell like sugar?”

Ugly, freak, giant, awkward, mulish, unfortunate, wench. She’d been called all sorts of things but not once had anyone mentioned her scent. She was suddenly conscious. She had taken a shower but being in the kitchen all day, you carried its aroma with you long after you got clean. She avoided colognes and perfumes and relied on soaps and lotions to smell nice. But that she smelled of sugar?

“No,” she muttered. 

Jaime grinned. “Really.”

“Your coffee’s about to be ready,” she said, standing up. Over her shoulder, she added, “You should call yourself a cab or whatever it is that will take you away from here. And you’re having coffee in the kitchen, Lannister.” 

“You were calling me Jaime just a while ago,” he reminded her, still sitting on the couch. His voice sounded a little strained. “Listen, wench, I have an idea how to make up my being an ass to you.”

“You can leave,” she suggested, flipping the lid of the coffeemaker to check. It was still draining the granules. Still, she brought out mugs from the cupboard and set them beside the coffeemaker.

“Eventually,” Jaime said in between yawns. “But I’m serious. I have a meeting with the board this coming Thursday. It’s a dreary thing and tedious and just plain tragic. But I thought cupcakes would perk them up a bit. How about I place an order for thirty?”

“Your sort aren’t into my cupcakes,” Brienne retorted, pouring coffee into the mugs, “unless they’re flourless, sugarless, and all things that do not make that cupcake an actual cupcake. No thanks.”

“Ungrateful wench,” but she could hear the smile in his voice. “No. Nothing like the crap you mentioned. I want cupcakes topped high with rich frosting. You decide which cupcakes to serve, as long as they’re thirty. You’ll get paid, I’ll pay now if you want. But you have to deliver them yourself and you’re going to have to stay around and tell them about Evenstar Bakery & Café.”

“Why the hell should I make the delivery and stay when I have people who can do that?” Brienne demanded, shaking the last drops of the coffee into the mugs.

“I’m throwing business your way. Leaving business cards don’t do it. You have to be there and sell yourself. I mean, your business.” Jaime chuckled. “So. Thursday?”

Brienne stared at the wall thoughtfully. “I’ll think about it.”

“Seven Hells, what must a man do to earn your forgiveness?”

“Leave,’ Brienne said. She sighed and pulled out an unopened package of chocolate, cream-filled cookies. She put four on a plate, put it and the mugs on the tray and turned, fully expecting to find Jaime sitting by the counter.

Instead, what she saw was the man sprawled on the couch, fast asleep. She cursed under her breath and went to him, fully intending to shake him awake and drag him out if she must. Just as she was about to do the first of these, he let out a loud, deep snore.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne finds a lion in her bed.

When the alarm clock buzzed at four-fifteen in the morning, Brienne let out a groan. Fall was just around the corner. Two weeks ago, she had exchanged her blanket for the thicker comfort of a quilt. She turned off the alarm yet huddled under the warmth of the quilt, loathed to leave her bed or her apartment.

One of these days, she will have one of the bakers meet the deliveries and begin baking so the bakery would be ready for business at six a.m. It was time she reaped the benefits of her hard labor and that meant staying in bed longer. As Brienne contemplated that thought with her eyes closed, something warm and solid moved behind her. Mind still fuddled with sleep, she thought nothing of the long arm that settled around her waist and the knee poking at her hip.

“Hmm,” she murmured, still half-asleep. She moved deeper under the blanket and the arm, unable to move along, snuck under shirt. A sigh drifted out of her as something warm and surprisingly soft rubbed against her nape. Deeper she settled against the form closed around her. The faint scent of soap and linen surrounded her.

As she breathed, a second, deep breathing echoed from behind, stirring the hairs behind her ear. Frowning, she slept on, wanting to give herself five more minutes before she left her very warm, very comfortable bed. 

She was approaching wakefulness when she realized that her arm was holding another arm—the one wrapped around her waist. That other arm was heavy and corded with muscle and veins and covered in hair. 

And the hand attached to it was cupped around her breast, fingers lazily playing with her hard nipple. Eyes open now, they widened into panicked blue pools when the person behind her groaned against her nape and pulled her closer. His hand tightened around her breast, something wet flicked at the skin behind her ear.  
Something hard was poking at her backside. She wiggled, trying to ascertain what it was. She gasped, realizing--

_There was a man in her bed!_

“If you’re going to keep squirming like that, it would be more fun without clothes,” Jaime grumbled behind her, his lips moving against her nape. He pulled her to his chest and threw his leg over her hips. Did he just lick her behind the ear? The hand around her breast squeezed.

“What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Bed.” Brienne bit out every syllable, breathless.

“Keeping warm. And your couch is murder on the back, wench. How much did you pay for that thing?” His nose was pressed into her hair. Brienne jumped when he cupped her breast boldly through her shirt then pinched her nipple this time. “Your chest is a lot softer and more comfortable, I’d bet.”

“Unhand me or I’ll scream this bloody building down and have you arrested,” Brienne threatened, trying to shake him off. She was sweating and shaking. Pink spots danced before her eyes despite the bluish darkness of her room. 

“Come on now, there’s no need for threats, wench. All you have to do is ask nicely.” Infuriating her even more, Jaime clutched her tight. He whispered in her ear, “Are you a screamer when someone fucks you, wench?”

“Get off me now!” And ignoring his laugh, she started pummelling his arm with fists, kicking him hard in the legs. She grinned as he let out an “Oof!” of pain, his arm falling from her. Released from the prison of Jaime Lannister, Brienne lunged to her feet, turned the bedside lamp on. She didn't blink at the sudden brightness and grabbed her pillow. She hit him right on the head. Hard. 

“What the fuck!” Jaime roared as the pillow hit him a second time. 

“Why are you in my bed!” Brienne exploded, continuing to hit him. Her rage had shaken off her sleep and now she was fully awake and red-faced. Jaime was flushed with anger too. Before she could land another blow, he grabbed the pillow and gave it a hard yank. The force sent Brienne tumbling facedown on the bed. She was quick to rise to her knees, hitting Jaime on the jaw with her head. The sound of bone knocking against the other cracked against the room and they both howled in pain.

Jaime, leaning against the headboard, rubbed his rapidly purpling chin. Brienne glared at him as she laid light fingers on the tender spot on her head. They were both panting and flushed but she was redder by an entire spectrum.

“Alright, I’m sorry if I scared you—“

_“You fucking terrified me, you asshole.”_

“I’m sorry.” Jaime caught her eye and held it. Despite his eyes being bloodshot from interrupted sleep, they were sharp as glaciers. His blond hair was tousled even prettily, Brienne thought with a groan. Seriously, how was it that someone could look that good before five a.m. in the morning? Brienne, whose breathing were harsh puffs at the height of her pillow assault, still rang high in her ears and was faster now as she stared at the damnable man who was damnably attractive in only his golden skin and ripped muscles and boxers. Gods damn him. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “But I was cold and my back was beginning to hurt.”

Brienne, her hand still on the throbbing spot, retorted, “So you took off your clothes and crawled into my bed to get warm? You don't know me! What's wrong with you?”

“Of course I know you. You're my wench and I don’t like wearing a lot of clothes to bed.” Jaime’s eyes sparkled as he took in her rumpled t-shirt and the legs of her pajamas pooled at her knees. His eyes lingered on the freckles on her legs. She quickly jerked the pants legs down to her ankles. “You should think about that, wench. You might not be so cross when you wake up.”

Brienne sighed. “How many times do I have to remind you of my proper name?”

“As many times as I will call you wench.”

It was her head. Otherwise, Jaime sounded tender. Affectionate, even. Grumbling about rude men and entitled rich boys, Brienne got off the bed. “You have to leave, Lannister,” she told him. “There’re deliveries this morning and I don’t want to be late.”

She turned away to start righting the bed. As she tucked the loosened sheets under the mattress, he swung his legs to the floor and rose. Try as she did to ignore him stretching, she couldn’t. Those were muscles moving under his skin. Jaime really was an asshole but the gods thought to grant him with that chest, she thought, swallowing. That butt. She didn’t know anything about men aside from being jerks but that certainly wasn’t padding---

“Like what you see, wench?” Jaime grinned as she gasped and continued fixing her bed.

“Please. I’ve seen better.” She muttered as she straightened the pillowcases. 

Jaime shrugged. “I believe you. I must be a weakling next to these men for why else are you kicking me out of bed this early in the morning? What time is it?” 

“It’s quarter to five. Do you need to freshen up? Because you can have the bathroom first. Just be quick about it. And don’t use up all the hot water.”

“I’m not that cruel. But why not join me?” Again, he was grinning at her and looking at her as if he could just eat her up. Brienne wondered what she did recently to merit this torture. She finished, straightened up and crossed her arms over her breasts as she narrowed her eyes at Jaime. 

“The water’s hot but we can keep each other warm if we share,” he said.

Brienne sighed. “If you’re not taking the shower, I am.”

“Can I join you?”

“Do you want to lose body parts?”

“There’s my favorite side of the wench,” Jaime said, chuckling. “Unbent and spitting fire. Gods, you must be merciless in bed. We should fuck sometime.”

Brienne wanted to tear at her face when her cheeks turned red. Shooting him another look, she marched to the bathroom. From behind the door, she shouted, “There better be coffee when I finish, Lannister!”

“Yes, wench!”


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime gives Brienne a lift. . .and finds out her secret.

No matter how many times Brienne refused him, Jaime still managed to get her where he wanted: in the backseat of the luxurious Valyrian waiting outside her building when they went out. Brienne easily slid in, glad for the spaciousness of the car that accommodated her long legs. She huddled on the other end of the backseat while Jaime lounged in the other, assured even in his lazy slouch. He pressed a button that lowered the privacy screen. Brienne made out the high forehead and high, angular features of the chauffeur. He gave firm instructions on where to go first. Then Jaime pressed the button again and up the screen went.

He was wearing his tux but the shirt was still unbuttoned at the top and the bow tie in some pocket. His hair was damp from the shower and the scent of her generic soap and shampoo wafted off him. In the warmth of the car, it was a cloud that punched her right in the gut. She supposed this was his effect on women and it was best not to read too much into it. 

“Relax, wench,” he said, taking note of her stiff spine and shoulders. His voice was a sensual caress in the quiet confines of the car. “I don’t bite.”  
“My bakery is out of your way,” she said, looking at her hands.

“How do you get there usually?” Jaime asked.

“We ordinary folk walk. If I feel like spoiling myself, I take a cab.”

“You walk?” Jaime sounded startled. “Wench, it’s still dark and only five-thirty a.m.”

She shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”

“Still.”

“This isn’t Flea Bottom,” she pointed out, looking at him. Flea Bottom was the bad side of Kingsland. Rundown and lorded by druggies and junkies, no one went there willingly. 

“No matter where you are, there’s hardly people out and you’re a woman.”

“It’s just as dangerous to a man.”

“A man can fight back.”

“This woman knows how to fight back.”

“I don’t doubt it. But it’s an unnecessary risk. You have staff to take care of the deliveries.”

“Who will also be walking and would be loathed to take cabs being that they earn less than I do. No. It’s my bakery, it’s my business. They already work hard enough.”  
Jaime looked between awed and impatient at her words. Brienne shrugged again.

“Why are you sitting all the way there? Come closer.”

“I’m fine right where I am, Lannister.”

“I’m not. Does my scent offend you, wench? I took a shower and used your deodorant.” He winked at her.

Brienne’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

Jaime’s smile was wide and cocky. “Powder scent. My pits should smell pretty. Care for a sniff?”

“No! I can’t believe you used such a personal item---”

“Oh? So I can paw your little breasts but I can’t use your deodorant?”

Little breasts, indeed. She burned a vibrant red. “I did not give you permission to molest me, Lannister.”

“Too bad. If you had, I’d more than molest you.” His voice dropped suggestively. “And you won’t be this cranky. You won’t be at all. Gods, you’re wound up so tightly, aren’t you? You’re not being fucked right. You should know how it is to be fucked, properly and thoroughly.”

Brienne was shocked to feel a sudden warmth throb deep in her cunt. Her nipples started getting hard too. The cerulean blue sweater she was wearing was thick but she prayed he wouldn't discover her wearing only a t-shirt underneath. “This conversation is making me uncomfortable.” She shifted in her seat.

Jaime nodded at her legs. “You’re probably getting wet.”

Shocked, Brienne could only squawk, _“Jaime!”_

“What? I’m getting hard too,” he said. “I’ve been hard since I woke up. If only you showered with me—“

“I thought you rich people are taught all proper etiquette and that shit. This is not a conversation you should be having with a lady, Jaime.” Brienne wondered if she could punch him in the car. She had a long reach.

Jaime threw his head back and laugh. “Fuck me hard, wench. This isn’t the Targaryen Dynasty where women are taught to be simpering maidens. You’re no maiden—“

Brienne wanted to melt in the floor of the car as her face acquired the color of ripe tomato. Jaime started.

“Seven Hells,” he whispered. His eyes were the size of saucers. “You’re a virgin.”


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Jaime and Brienne confrontation.

“Leave me alone!” Brienne snarled as she leaped out of the car as soon as it pulled up in front Evenstar Bakery & Café. Jaime had jumped out of the car too and was now following her. He called out to her, imploring her to come back. Brienne ignored him.

Her entire body was shaking as she threw herself down the alley of the bakery. The deliveries will be coming through here and she had to open, she had to unlock. She dug in her purse for the keys and shouted in frustration when they fell to the ground. She wanted to howl to the Seven when Jaime scooped them up.

Brienne wanted to curl up in a ball. It was humiliating, just humiliating. She was twenty-nine, never been kissed, never been touched. It was pathetic and made her more of the freak she was. Worse, she knew she wasn’t going to die once she saw the mocking glitter in Jaime’s eyes. The world was that cruel to her. Ugly, a giant, no conversational skill of any kind—how will that sum up to someone desirable, let alone fuckable? 

Keeping her head down and her back to him, she held out her arm. “Give me the keys, Jaime,” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak any louder.

She heard them jangle and felt his hands close around her and the hard, cold brush of the keys. She gasped when he whirled her around to face him.

“Look at me, Brienne.” His voice was gentle, as if speaking to a child.

She kept her eyes on her shoes and shook her head. She tried taking her hand away from his but he held her tight.

“Jaime, please,” she whispered again.

She bit her lip as she heard him shuffle closer. The his black dress shoes were right next to hers. One hand crooked a finger under her chin and prompted her to look up.

Brienne knew what she was going to find there: the cold, cruel light of a man who would tell her that her ugliness was of a magnitude that downing a case of bare wouldn’t help him fuck her. She bit her lip as she slowly raised her eyes, preparing herself for the mockery that always followed upon her. . .her condition being known. 

Jaime Lannister looked at her with soft, emerald eyes. They searched her face but didn’t stray too long from her eyes. No mockery. No cruelty. 

“Are you going to cry?” He asked, his finger still under her chin. He was an inch shorter but he could look at her right in the eye. “Why?”

“I’m not going to cry,” she huffed.

“Good.” Did he sound proud?

“Let go of my hand.”

“If you wish.” For the first time since meeting him, Jaime did as she asked. Brienne quickly felt the chill in the morning air. She put her hands in her jacket, along with the keys.

“I apologize,” Jaime began, still looking at her. “It wasn’t my business. And I was not making fun.”

She didn’t know how to respond that.

“I apologize for my earlier behaviour—how I’ve behaved since meeting you. It was cruel. I’d turn back time and undo them if I could.”

She nodded. “Okay.” What was there to say? And he seemed sincere, given the number of times he had apologized. 

“Why did you get so mad when I—“

“Because it’s pathetic. And I don’t like people knowing.”

“It is your business,” Jaime agreed, surprising her again. “But there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, Brienne.”

“Oh really?” What about the chef who didn’t call again when she told him she was a virgin? What about the bet that went around in her dorm for her virginity? If it didn’t scare men off, it was a game. Her laugh was bitter. “I seem to have missed the memo.”

“Really.” Jaime insisted. “So it is unusual these days but. . .it’s quite sweet, actually.”

She frowned. “Fucking hell, Lannister. Sweet?”

He smiled at her. For the first time, she saw a glimpse of the real Jaime Lannister. He wasn't that bad. She would still like to smother him in his sleep but. . .he wasn't. . .that bad. 

“Yes. I find it sweet.”

The familiar heavy lumbering of the delivery truck came and soon, it was parked in front of the bakery. It blasted the horn at Jaime’s car, which started moving away gently.

Brienne took a deep breath. “Um, I should get to work.”

Jaime nodded, glanced at the truck then at her. “Deliveries, yes.”

He hesitated then, smiling, asked, “Are we still on for Thursday?”

“Thursday?”

“The board meeting. At Lannister Enterprise. Thirty cupcakes of your choice.” 

“Oh.”

“I’ll have my assistant drop off the check later in the day.”

She nodded. He nodded. Satisfied, he started to walk back to his car.

Brienne was unlocking the door when he called out, “Wench?”

“What?’ She growled.

He grinned, his eyes bright and friendly. “Wear something blue on Thursday. It is a good colour on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'ts only explicit because Jaime gets really improper. No smut yet! But it's coming, it's coming!

**Author's Note:**

> Starting from Chapter Two, the rating will definitely be explicit. Merry Christmas!


End file.
